


When the dust settles

by TCFactory



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 12:46:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1106992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TCFactory/pseuds/TCFactory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Predacon Rising</p><p>After Unicron's defeat, everyone is trying to find themselves a place in the new world order, with more or less success.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. All alone

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed - I'd be very thankful if you pointed out the typos.
> 
>   Cybetronian time units used:
> 
> nanklick - 1 second  
> klick - 1.2 minutes  
> breem - 8.3 minutes  
> orbital (cycle) - 3.8 days (Cybetronian day)  
> orn - 13 days  
> quartex - 10 months (Cybetronian week)

Megatron sat on top of an old lookout tower, staring broodingly into the distance. Below him a hotspot ignited with the brilliant light of sparks; the beginning of a new generation.

His plating itched where Unicron’s magic mangled his body, but he tried to ignore it as best as he could. He didn’t want to look at himself, the recreated chassis uncomfortable and alien, as if the new plating was too small and didn’t fit well.

Unicron ruined everything he touched. Now that the dark god’s influence had finally lost its hold on him, the realization hit him like a punch to the faceplates. Meddling with dark energon quickly made itself a place on his list of “Things I regret”. Considering his history, it was a surprisingly curt list. You didn’t need both hands to count the points on it.

At the edge of the horizon, Luna-1 crawled onto the sky, signaling the beginning of the night cycle. He’ll wait for a few breems and go scout for fuel, he decided. The source he found a few orbitals ago was close to running out; one of the several downsides of his transformation was the almost tripled energy consumption, which was an alarming predicament. Raw energon was an inadequate energy source, and he couldn’t consume it in big enough quantity to quench this new hunger. He was no stranger to starvation, to nibble on foul tasting energon shards while others celebrated with high grade, but the persistent burnt in his tanks brought back dark memories he’d buried in the back of his processor a long time ago.

He saw an abandoned mine to the far West when he first mapped the area. Maybe he could cobble together a crude energon refinery from the discarded equipment there. Or at least find some additives to make the raw crystals easier to process.

His thoughts were interrupted by the quiet buzz of jet engines. He looked up in alarm, optics widening a fraction when he spotted the familiar, spindly jet just above the tower. He had to hand it to Soundwave that spy model or not, it was impressive that he could sneak up on him like this.

His loyal friend transformed mid-air and dropped down, landing in a clumsy crouch. It brought a small smirk to Megatron’s lip components. As graceful as Soundwave was in the air or on the ground, his landings were anything but. Not to mention that awkward little hop he made when he took off; back in their younger years, Megatron never missed the opportunity to tease him about it.

Soundwave slowly approached, the small movement of his head indicating that he took a good look at Megatron's reconstructed frame. The ex-warlord stood as the spy got near him, pulling himself to his impressive height.

"How did you find me?" he demanded drawing his energy field close, so it won't betray his emotions.

Soundwave, on the other hand, let his EM field unfold, reaching out to Megatron with relief/longing.

"Discovery: accidental. Objective: recover downed forecast satellite." He said aloud, surprising Megatron. But as the war has ended, he had no reason to hold onto silence anymore. "Soundwave: relieved. Feared for the worst. Megatron: was missed."

That earned the spy a disbelieving grunt. It remained unsaid, but it was clear that Soundwave had joined the autobots' along with Shockwave, Knockout and most of the troopers. The chance that he stumbled upon Megatron by accident was almost impossibly small.

"If you came here to lure me to the autobots, you are wasting your time. I won't give them a chance to put me in custody or execute me. Leave, now!" With that, Megatron considered the conversation done, but Soundwave was persistent.

"Autobots: won't go against Prime's wish for peace. Megatron: safe to return, if wishes." He stopped, and cut to a recording of Ultra Magnus. _"In this war, we have all committed crimes. Each and every one of us had earned execution a hundred times over the course of these last millennia. Thus, anyone who wishes to aid the rebuilding of Cybertron will be pardoned and given a fresh, new chance."_

"It must have pained him to say that", mused Megatron. Magnus had always been a very by-the-book bot. "I will think about it. But now, I wish to stay alone."

"Acknowledged," droned the spy, his field flashing with hope/relief before he took off with his trademark hop.

Megatron stood still, watching the smaller flier until he gained certainty that Soundwave won't circle back to spy on him. He waited a few more breems before taking off with a leap, a majestic sight even in this mangled form an made a small circle around the tower, just enjoying the cool air under his wings; a luxury under current circumstances, but he gave into temptation this one time before heading towards the old mine.

***

Megatron didn't fly straight to the mine. As every night since his exile began, his first destination was the nearby hot spot.

Hot spots were curious, sacred places. They were basins with rare, precious minerals and metals, the very same alloys that formed the spark chamber of every Cybertronian, and bubbling pools of liquid protometal pouring forth from the deepest parts of the planet. Sparks from the Well gravitated towards them and upon landing, got embedded into the ground. The metals around the spark soon formed a protective sphere, a protochamber. If it was carefully cut from its place and placed into the cooler, shallower pools of protometal, under the course of an orn, it slowly built a frame to house the new life.

Sparks kindled from the union of two were similar; the small new sparks were carefully planted into the metal and closely monitored both there and in the pools. These new frames were usually smaller, physically less developed than those from the Well and needed a few dozen or so small upgrades to catch up, but they shared a close resemblance to their parents, so many Cybertronians were 'born' this way before the war, Megatron himself among them.

The autobots didn't have enough fuel yet to provide for New sparks, so this hot spot too remained untouched, the ground even and the pools too deep and too hot to form protoforms. At least in theory.

Megatron landed next to a small pool, careful not to step on any of the bright sparks and peered into the silvery liquid. There was a frame in there, the half formed chassis gently cradled by the waves. It was impossible - or rather ridiculously unlikely - for a spark to land in the liquid and start forming a frame. It just didn't happen, and it wasn't the only oddity. New frames were always small and it took a long row of upgrades and several protometal infusions until they reached their final size. Yet, this frame was adult sized, almost as big as Megatron was before Unicron's influence.

It was too much to be some weird coincidence, but Megatron didn't let his hopes up. It was still too early to tell, and it could be simply a new spark with a sizable frame type, like a shuttle or a smelter.

Either way, Megatron checked on it every night, just to be on the safe side. After all Primus had a legendarily bad sense of humor. He'll wait and see the laugh is on whom this time.

***

Megatron wasn't used to walking, but his companion wasn't a flyer. He didn't even have an alt mode yet, so they trekked through the plain at a painfully slow pace. At least it gave him time to teach the other a thing or two.

"You are mining in the Sea of Rust when you come across a titanium vein laced with silver. Is it safe to use explosives there?"

Long silence, then a tentative:

"Yes?"

"No. In the Sea of Rust, silver indicates the presence of grade 7 energon crystals." Megatron patiently waited while his pupil deciphered his answer. Grade 7 - high in energy, rare but found in big quantities at a time. Perfect for mid or high grade. Extremely explosive.

"Oh. I just blew up the mineshaft, didn't I?"

 _More like the whole mining site_ , thought Megatron, but the other looked so crestfallen that he didn't have the spark to say it aloud. Instead he patted a broad shoulder, the heavy industrial grade armor warm and solid under his touch.

"You still have time to learn. By the time we arrive, I'll make an excavation expert out of you," he promised with a smirk. The other looked at him, the sharp gaze of blue optics softening with a small smile of his own.


	2. United

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbetaed - I'm grateful for every typo you point out.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," Wheeljack said with a sheepish grin. Ratchet, who was currently busy welding the wrecker's hide together just ' _harumph_ '-ed at that. "We didn't expect the whole mine to blow up. I mean, what were the chances?"

"About 82.17%, according to Shockwave," Knockout piqued in from the other mediberth, hunching over an unconscious Soundwave. "As he clearly told you before you made the whole mine go kaboom."

"We need the energon. It was worth taking the risk," Wheeljack said defensively. Mining wasn’t going well; they were running low to the point where they had to painstakingly ration the little energon they had. Not completely unexpected, as the autobots had close to no experience with manual labor, but they hoped that the Decepticon miners would know what they were doing. Unfortunately, said miners were sparked after the abandonment of Cybertron and never had to mine on a machine-planet before. If the repeated shaft collapses and explosions were any clue, it was very different from mining on a rock planet.

"Tell that to Soundwave," the sports car replied grimly. The spy jet accompanied the miner team to take geographical readings of a promising area and got caught up the worst of the explosion. He was over the critical period, but with he still looked like a wreck. One arm was cleanly torn off and the other bending at an odd angle, his visor laced with a web of cracks, but Laserbeak remained miraculously unscratched. The bird was currently perched on top of a medical cabinet, thrilling sadly as it watched over its fallen host.

Ultra Magnus chose this moment to open the gate, tired troopers and the rest of the ragtag group following on his heels. It was about to rain and even the toughest mechanisms - in this case, the predacons - wanted to avoid the acid. Cybertronian weather came only in two flavors: lethal and 'not actively trying to kill you right now' and even the latter had its dangers if one wasn't careful.

The outpost soon became crowded with mecha - it was only temporary shelter, a huge dome that had sections separated by crude crate walls, but they didn't have any better right now. The construction work went painfully slowly and their usual base of operations, the Nemesis was away to pick up a shipful of refugees who ran out of fuel before reaching Cybertron. If Arcee's latest report was accurate, the new bots will change their situation for the better, as the Constructicon gestalt was listed among the crew.

Magnus patiently waited until the last mech entered before closing the gate, putting a barrier between them and the freezing wind that already carried the scent of acid.

“It’s fortunate that Soundwave managed to bring the forecast system online. I wouldn't want any of us to get caught in a storm," said the wrecker commander as he walked over to the medics. "How is he?"

"He'll live," Knockout managed, bending the less damaged wing back to its original position with a grunt. “But his spare parts are abroad the ship. He'll be berth ridden for a while."

"That is unfortunate. The stormy season is on us and we are vulnerable to natural disasters without a dependable weather forecast." He clenched his fist, but relaxed them right away - Knockout found a spare hand that fit him, but the new components were still tender.

"I wouldn't worry about that," Ratchet called over, shoving a complaining Wheeljack off the berth. "I knew him in the Arena. He'll start working as soon as he's strong enough to stay online. He can't stand to stay put when there is work to do, just like..."

It remained a mystery who shared the silent mech's workaholic tendencies, because Skylynx choose this klick to charge at Smokescreen with a loud roar.

Nobody was particularly surprised. The medics watched with matching bored expressions as the rookie ran past them with the Predacon on his heels.

"Here we go again," murmured Knockout, absentmindedly picking up a tray of scalpels before Skylynx could knock it to the floor.

"He had it coming," Ratchet agreed. Magnus just frowned as usual and lunged after the two troublemakers to break up the fight before they could cause too much collateral damage.

In the ruckus, they almost didn't notice when the gate opened.

***

Ultra Magnus was busy restraining Skylynx, but he looked up at the unmistakable grating noise of the gate. His optics immediately went round and lost his grip on the Predacon who tore himself away and jumped the rookie.

"Wait, Lynx," Smokescreen said, trying to wriggle his way out from under the other, his optics firmly on his commander. "Magnus, what happened?"

The blue wrecker was frozen in shock, but he made a small gesture towards the entrance.

There was a menacing figure towering in the open doorway, a mech whose plating was smoking slightly as small rivers of acid ran down his frame. When a lightning flashed outside and illuminated him from behind, he looked almost like a vengeful terrorcon. He was unmistakable; the pointy silhouette and the shark grin inspired many nightmares during the years.

"Is there place for two more mechs?" Megatron asked in a booming voice.

The ex-warlord must have had a Primus-given gift with words, because Magnus never heard about anyone who could silence a hangar full of Cybertronians with only one sentence. The silence stretched on and as nobody raised any objections, Megatron strode inside.

"Lord Megatron!" Magnus winced at the overjoyed screech, and couldn't help a disapproving “tsk” as a sleek, silver mech ran forward and all but latched onto Megatron, don't caring that the acid bit into his plating.

"Starscream?" The big mech asked almost uncertainly, peeling the long limbs off his frame.

"You look... different." It was an understatement, to say the least. The proud jet went under a reformat during Megatron's absence and for reasons unknown to the warlord, exchanged his greatest pride, his beloved wings for a set of wheels. It was beyond odd, but the smaller bot was too excited to pay attention to the words, hopping from one pede to another and babbling continuously.

"...Master, I'm so happy that you are back! Praise the Allspark! We've been missing you horribly, my lord. Even that arrogant youngling Predaking, but he'd never admit it and... who is that with you?" Starscream cut off suddenly, leaning comically to the side to take a look at Megatron's companion.

"On my way here I have picked up a... friend," answered the big mech with a nasty grin. He stepped aside and revealed the mysterious mech to the curious optics.

Surprised whispering started in the group the nanoklick they laid optics on the stranger, a huge, powerful mech who sported the pearly white of pre-upgrade frames, freshly forged in the protometal pond.

The fist new spark of the new generation.

***

As it could be expected, the medics were the first to break the stupor. After all, medical protocols came first in almost every situation and neutralizing the all-consuming acid demanded priority over staring at the new bot in awe. They quickly ushered the two newcomers to the medical section and immediately started to apply a generous layer of nanit gel on them.

“It is good to see you again, Lord Megatron,” Knockout admitted quietly as he climbed on the kneeling warlord to reach those spiked shoulders. “Things aren’t going exactly well here.”

“That I have noticed,” rumbled the big flier, optics focusing on the still unconscious Soundwave. “What happened in my absence?”

“Nothing good, my liege. Mining has been a gigantic failure this far and don’t get me started on reconstruction work. We are close to starvation, taking refuge in ruins like this and the autobots’ cheerful optimism is grating on everyone’s nervous circuits,” listed the doctor grimly as he rubbed the gel into a wide transformation seam.

 “Starscream had an unfortunate confrontation with the Predacons right after you have left. By the Pits, if Shockwave didn’t intervene they would have offlined him. As it is, we couldn’t preserve his original function with our current equipment. His wings were mangled beyond recognition. Seeker wings have too many delicate sensors and I… I couldn’t… I failed.” His hands stilled on Megatron and the words came slowly, erratically, regret and misery loud and clear in every pause. “He’s not taking it well.” He finished, voice barely a whisper, the phantoms of an ages-old loss coloring the edges.

“You did what you could to save him. He’s the most stubborn mech I know; he will pull through,” Megatron said firmly, his field pulsing reassurance and rock-solid certainty to the small medic; it was a leader’s duty to take care of his men and he finally remembered this. Small hands tightened on Megatron’s plating and the sports car’s field flickered with a mixture of emotions, misery slowly drying away.

“You always know what to say, my liege,” Knockout accused him softly.

Megatron shrugged, mindful not to throw off the smaller bot and was about to ask about Soundwave when Ratchet stomped up to him. New builds didn’t have complicated kibble, so he could apply the gel a lot quicker than Knockout and already had time to run a diagnostic, looking for further damage. Apparently, he found some.

“Have your brain module rusted over?” he hissed, stabbing an accusing finger at him, much to the Decepticon’s surprise. “What were you thinking?! Activating a new spark without proper fuel supply and dragging him here on foot was the stupidest, single most irresponsible thing I’ve seen in my life, and I’ve seen my share of stupidity!” The old medic was working himself into a fury, Megatron realized with dread, and just like an avalanche, he was gaining strength and momentum by the nanoklick. “Primus knows if he wasn’t a frigging industrial built, he would have already fallen apart! Has that thought crossed that rusted bucket of yours!? Or...”

“Ratchet.”

The rest of the tirade died on Ratchet’s vocalizer, promptly cut off by the quiet, warm voice, so familiar that it sent a pang of pain to the ambulance’s spark. He turned slowly, mouth agape and stared at the new build as if he saw one for the first time. Most new frames didn’t come online with all of their functions, and the vocalizer was one of the last systems to boot up, so they didn’t expect the industrial mech to speak. Yet he could be the only source of the voice.

The frame and the face were wrong. The shape and color of the optics was wrong. Even the voice wasn’t the same, but that _tone_ he could recognize anywhere.

“It can’t be,” he said, shaking his helm slowly in disbelief, EM field colored with hope and fear, sadness and joy. “Optimus? Is that really you?”

Optimus smiled; a familiar smile on a foreign face that erased the last trace of doubt.

“It’s good to see you again, old friend.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbetaed

As a stack of crates did little for soundproofing, the current medical area was far from private and the big news spread like wildfire among the bots; the new mech was the reborn Optimus Prime!

The troopers were more interested in Megaton’s return, greeting the warlord in waves and staring at Optimus from afar, but the reborn autobot soon found himself in a circle of officers, old friends and enemies alike, all of them looking at him with unmasked awe and wonder, buzzing with questions.

“How can this be?”

“We saw you die.”

“You came back from the Well.”

“Optimus!”

“Such miraculous rebirth is beyond all logic.”

The reborn mech smiled weakly, overwhelmed by the sudden attention – and slightly intimidated by the raw curiosity in Shockwave’s field, but the secondary harmonics reassured him that it was a more harmless sort of curiosity. He held his hands up to stop the next onslaught of questions.

“My friends, please call me Orion Pax. I no longer bear the Matrix of leadership, thus I am not a Prime anymore.” It took a klick for his audience to match up the designation to his current frame, which was enough for him to gather his thoughts.

“I am not certain what happened. My last memory is diving into the Well. The next thing I know, I was laying in a protometal pond, staring up at Megatron. The things in between are too fuzzy to remember.” It wasn’t the complete truth, but Orion wasn’t ready for long explanations. He looked at Megatron, hoping for some support – the sudden attention was too much, too early, and he needed a way out.

Luckily for him, Megatron caught on immediately. The warlord grinned and stepped in front of him, drawing every optic to himself as he latched into a tale on how Orion startled him when he suddenly bolted upright in the pond. Megatron had always been a charismatic spokesmech, Orion mused to himself as he slipped away, unnoticed by all but Laserbeak, still watching over her carrier and a certain red and white medic, who waited for him just outside the medical area.

The ambulance silently watched him for an everlasting klick, struggling to find the correct words.

“I still barely believe that you came back,” he finally managed, field and voice awash with emotion. Orion’s field enveloped him in warm joy and reassurance in reaction. The bigger mech lowered himself to his knees to get closer to optic level and a huge hand gently cupped Ratchet’s helm, thumb caressing the sensor-rich chevron. The size difference was _glaring,_ almost ridiculous and it would only get worse when Orion finally gets his upgrades, but it was good to finally touch the other like this.

“Primus saw me worthy enough to reward me with a new life and I plan to cherish every nanoklick of it. Without the burden of the war and the Matrix, I can finally be a bit selfish and be with my loved one - if he still wants me.”

Ratchet blinked, speechless by the thinly veiled proposal.

“Wha-? Of course I would, I…” the medic cut off, before he started arguing and messed the moment up. “You honor me,” he said, moving in for an embrace. Orion carefully hugged him back, his field pulsing with happiness.

***

From the other side of the dome, five optics watched as the medic and the ex-librarian embraced.

“This will prove to be interesting,” Magnus commented. “And possibly awkward.”

On his left, Shockwave nodded his agreement. Predaking, on the other hand, just looked confused.

“Why? They look happy to me,” the tall youngling said, watching the two autobots.

“Ratchet didn’t have a stable relationship in his life; not many are willing to put up with him for more than a one-night fling,” Magnus said patiently, his face twisting into a grimace that could have been a half-aborted smirk.

“And Optimus Prime was true to the traditions. It is only logical that he followed the rule about Primes’ celibacy too,” Shockwave added, antennae perking up. “It is to be expected that a relationship between them will be plagued with difficulties. Furthermore, Orion’s recent predicament will cause stress in the physical aspect of the relationship.” Predaking looked a bit shaken by the in-depth analysis and quickly excused himself, before his creator and the commander could get started on the exact details of said physical aspect.

Magnus, however, looked at the faceless mech with approval; he almost looked impressed.

“Your observation is correct. I admit I didn’t expect you to pay attention to personal matters.”

“Ratchet activated my creator-protocols and salvaged some of my emotional programming after the predacons imprinted on me as a parent-figure. Observing social interactions aids my adjustment to the new protocols,” Shockwave droned, his voice seemingly as emotionless as ever. “And without any valid scientific projects, I find analyzing the _numerous_ relationships a good substitute.”

The way he said _numerous_ gave Magnus the feeling that he should run for it, but he wasn’t quick enough.

“Will you pursue a relationship with Soundwave?” The purple mech asked bluntly. Magnus let out a defeated ex-vent at the straightforward question – he did _not_ want to talk about his ridiculous crush on the comm. mech.

“Look, I know that I’m not the most social mech in the group, but even I heard that Megatron and Soundwave were bonded. Now that he has returned, I don’t stand a chance.”

“Your decision is illogical. Soundwave was originally a satellite frame; they are well known for forming multiple bonds. And I am positive that Megatron wouldn’t raise an objection if it benefits the mental and emotional health of his mate. Your courting has a 83 % chance of success, at least in the form of a short fling.”

“When did you become an expert on relationships?” Magnus snarled. He didn’t like the turn this conversation took.

“I am not. It’s Soundwave’s calculation. He wasn’t oblivious to your interest and calculated the possibilities of a relationship. I’ve known him long enough to tell that he was… thrilled by the idea of a second partner.”

“The why wouldn’t _you_ become that ‘second partner’? Wouldn’t it be more _logical_ for it to be a Decepticon?” Magnus growled, fed up with the whole conversation.  Primus, Shockwave was acting like a very bad matchmaker. It was worse than the time when his wreckers made an immature bet about hooking up Perceptor with Brainstorm. He still shivered unpleasantly when he remembered that disaster.

“Negative. My emotional circuits are mostly damaged beyond repair. I can not form a stable romantic or emotional connection. Soundwave requires these traits in a mate. ” His antennae lowered and Magnus would have sworn that he heard regret in his voice. “Carrier frames require a family unit of their own, young of their own spark to take care of. And I already have my hand full with the Predacons.”

They both looked over to the younglings who, in cooperation with Smokescreen for once, were handing out the last of the high grade to celebrate Orion’s and Megatron’s return.

“But these are thoughts for another day. I suggest that we acquire a cube each, before Smokescreen recklessly hands all of them to the troopers.”

“I didn’t take you for the partying type,” Magnus commented, mood lightening at the promise of high grade. The only properly functioning energon refiner was abroad the Nemesis, so they were all drinking foul tasting slug-grade since the ship left.  It made everyone beside themselves in joy to drink normal fuel.

Apparently, Shockwave was no exception.

“It is the logical curse of action to consume energon that doesn’t taste like a triplechanger’s scorched tailpipe when it’s available.” The cyclops replied, antennae perking up in good humor.

A small smile made a fleeting appearance on Ultra Magnus’ face.  A few quartexes ago, he would have never imagined holding a civilized conversation with a Decepticon, least of all with Shockwave of all mechs. The troopers and the Predacons were working with Wheeljack and Bulkhead on the demolition and rebuilding projects. Ratchet and Knockout ran the medibay smoothly, united by the power of sass. Even Megatron seemed surprisingly docile, submitting himself to Knockout’s medical care without fuss.

Maybe against all odds, this peace was really going to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is it for now. Thank you very much for reading! 
> 
> It was my first real try at writing, so any and all feedback is greatly appreciated. I plan to write more for this Au, but if anyone feels like playing around with it, be my guest and have fun. :)


End file.
